


Gorgeous/Grotesque

by jaylene



Series: Tumblr Dribs & Drabs [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: ...and so deadly, F/M, KiriSaku, Sakura has PTSD, also i am completely making things up here, and now it's set in the bayou, and the humans taken to the fae realms are called changelings, because both fae sent to the human world, fae!au, hella ptsd, i picture sakura as a tween or teen here, i think they'd differentiate them at least a bit, i wouldn't be surprised to find a plesiosaur in the pool in florida, now i'm picturing this all taking place in Louisiana/new orleans, or i guess it could also be florida, please y'all prompt more in this verse i want to get to the other kiri bois, sakura is a tired changeling, the whole moon vs. sun thing is made up by me, they're so tiny, this was really fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29169750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylene/pseuds/jaylene
Summary: Sakura coming to terms with those coming to Court her. She knows, just as well as they, that the Court waits for no one.Especially not a Changeling like her.
Relationships: Haku/Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura & Haku
Series: Tumblr Dribs & Drabs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121849
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an urban magic AU.
> 
>  _Prompt_ : Sakura/Mizu boys? Maybe Sakura is a changeling that has to deal with the Mizu Fae?
> 
> Feel free to leave a prompt in [my ask box](https://thefreckledone.tumblr.com/ask)!

Sakura ties back her hair, shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. She knows it’s counterproductive—aren’t the weekends for relaxing and the weekdays for work—but she does not feel safe in her home. She’s put up as many safeguards as she can, but it is nothing like the workshop where she is an apprentice. Despite a decade of gathering all sorts of metal odds and ends, there just isn’t as much iron at home as there is here.

How can her home possibly compare to an actual smithy?

Tenten, the master of the smithy, is away on vacation and she trusts Sakura well enough to handle the welding without her. Sakura is a good employee, able to create whimsical works from titanium steel, which is quite a stubborn metal. So Tenten lets Sakura’s quirks slide; hell, she herself thinks of the smithy as her home too. She has no room for pointing fingers.

Sakura moves toward the forge, picking up the heavy pail of coke left over from Friday’s fire and hauling it to the cold forge. Picking up the day’s newspaper, Sakura pulls out the crossword puzzle and crumples the rest and begins the tedious process of lighting the forge. She has a knack for it, though she would never admit it [too many memories of gaunt, bony fingers digging into coal, raking through it as the need to live boils over and burns out anything and everything else]. The flames grow as she blows gently upon the coals, coke, and paper, burning away the horrible memories that sear at her.

Fire entrances her, leaves her content and incapable of thinking of the darker things that lurk in her past. [Fire features as her most pleasant memories of that time; triumph, relief, victory, satisfaction, _warmth_. It all came from the fire and even now it gives her those same feelings. The worst times were cold and wet and constantly, always aching. This is different. _Better._ ]

She watches for a full minute, making sure that the fire is stoked well enough to go on its own before stepping away, leaving it to heat enough to work metal. Sakura shrugs off her jacket, knowing full well that it is about to get quite toasty. She weaves through the forge, deftly avoiding the sheets of untouched metal, the incomplete projects, and the finished ones ready for consignment. Some of the work is commissioned by individuals, others by the small businesses in and around the sleepy town. There is more clutter than usual in the smithy because Sakura doesn’t really deal with customers face-to-face and their deliverer, Kiba, is away to visit his sister in veterinary school.

Sakura heads to the little break room off to the side and steps in, pulling open the mini-fridge. She grabs the quart of milk, placing it on the laminate counter as she rustles through the cabinets for a clean cup. All she comes up with are a porcelain beer stein depicting the Hyuga coat of arms (Neji went through a phase of “Hyuga superiority” and Tenten thought it was fucking hilarious and refused to let him forget it ever) and a metal goblet.

Sakura examines the metal goblet, checking the bottom for a maker’s mark. There is a chicken scrawl of “ _NU_ ” and Sakura sighs, replacing the goblet into the cabinet. She isn’t going to risk one of Naruto’s poorly constructed forays into metal-working. Naruto is a master of calligraphy, but a genius in blacksmithing he is not.

The Hyuga beer stein it is then.

She opens the milk and pours it into the mug, just going through the motions. When it hits the glass with a sickening plop, Sakura snaps back to attention, staring down into the stein.

The milk is soured, rancid even.

Sakura swallows against her suddenly dry throat, struggling against her spiraling thoughts. “You are fine,” she tells herself through gritted teeth. “You are working yourself up over nothing at all. It’s spoiled milk. Everyone’s been out of town except you; it’s just out of date. Check the label and confirm it for yourself.”

The speaking her anxieties aloud thing wasn’t her idea; she learned it in psychotherapy. Over time, it feels natural and, even as she speaks, Sakura feels her looming fears be put to rest. Still, her hands shake as Sakura lifts the milk to look it over. It takes a few moments to figure find the label and read it, her hands shaking too much.

What she sees leaves her dizzy, breathless.

The date isn’t for another seven days.

The milk falls from her hands, chunks hitting the floor and releasing a foul smell through the kitchenette and break room. Sakura stumbles away, heedless, groping at the chain around her neck as she draws out the iron bell she keeps on her person at all times. She isn’t given a chance to contemplate and mire herself in her thoughts as the bells above the door ring before cutting off abruptly.

Fae.

Sakura whirls, hand clutching at the metal closest to her. Her fingers wrap around something and she tightens her grip on it, hoping it’ll weigh her down and keep her grounded.

A lithe man stands in the doorway, hair so dark it looks blue in the firelight. She has misjudged a bit. He is not Fae, but he is not human either, no more than she is. There is something in the tilt of his eyes, the ethereal beauty shining in his face, that warns Sakura of his inhumanness. There is also the fact that Sakura knows him from _Before_.

[Cold dampness seeping into bones. She doesn’t remember what it is to be warm, to feel, to be human. There is movement near her and she reaches out, wet slippery fingers reaching for the pale, outstretched hand. He’s been here longer, made wild by his surroundings, a fine webbing among his fingers. She doesn’t hesitate, wrapping her fingers in his. And then, painful, overflowing _warmth_.]

Sakura laughs, ignoring the hysterical notes that underpin it. “Et tu, Haku? They finally got to you?”

He tilts his head as he watches her, a slight frown weighing down his lips. “I’ve been at Court for years now,” Haku says. “I did not run like you did.”

“I wasn’t afforded the same protections you received,” Sakura nearly snarls, remembering broken promises, swords, and sharp teeth and sharper smiles. “I did not catch their attentions in that manner.”

“You didn’t complete the Trials,” Haku says, as if it is a simple thing.

“And whose fault was that?” Sakura snaps, not satisfied by the way he flinches. She feels hollowed out and low. “I made my choice; I broke free!”

“That isn’t how it works,” Haku says, shaking his head slowly. “You know it isn’t.”

“I am human!” Sakura almost shouts, face flushing red with the force of the lie. “I am not Fae! I make my own rules. I walked out of the Trials and made it out of the Courts, all of them, unbroken!”

“A new round of Trials begins soon,” Haku says. “You have been called upon by the Faerie King to return.”

“I will not,” Sakura hisses. “I am _human_.”

“You are changeling,” Haku says hotly. “A changeling of the moon as I am of the sun. You must fulfill your duty.”

Sakura flings the metal in her hand his way, aiming for Haku’s head. He ducks out of the way but overcorrects, hitting a large wire frame rooster. It is apparently made of iron as the skin of Haku’s cheek burns upon contact. He glares balefully at Sakura before disappearing to the tinkling of bells. Sakura bites the inside of her cheek until it bleeds, the iron in her mouth reminding her that she is not like him. Even if she is a changeling of the moon, she started as human.

Haku never had a chance.

He was born Fae, forced to fit the confines of humanness until it chafed too much and he absconded to the Court and to the Trials.

She makes her way toward the metal she threw, curious as to what it is. She finds it fallen beneath an obviously dented letter _K_.

When Sakura sees it, she lets out a strangled mix of a sob and a laugh.

A horseshoe.

Of course.

_Of course_.

She would need an arsenal of horseshoes to ward off the evils of Court now.

From the looks of things, a bounty of luck would be necessary to survive the coming days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Sakura first meets Haku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Prompt_ : Oh my gosh, that Sakura/mizu piece you just did was amazing!! I loved the sun and moon aspect because it adds a whole new dynamic to the fae world!!! Thank you so much for sharing, and if you get the chance please continue

Shivers wrack Sakura’s body but she ignores it, focusing on securing herself to her chosen perch with the woven fronds she braided. They do not make for the strongest of ropes, but Sakura prefers it to the other option.

She’s fallen from these heights before, hitting the waters below. The cold shock of it and the bruises left by the impact are miserable yes, but the splash has far greater ramifications.

[She never knew that foxes can scream but they can indeed. An endless, wailing scream that nips at her heels and threatens to trap her in their jaws. Sometimes, only sometimes, Sakura is tempted to let them, if only to end the screaming.]

So, she ties herself to a sturdy branch and watches the marshlands begin to darken with night. She’s thankful for the fact that her clothes are mostly dry. Sakura cannot remember a time when she was fully dry, actually warm, but this slight yet pervasive dampness is the closest she’s gotten in ages.

She rustles through the satchel she pieced together from rags. Sakura pulls out the unleavened bread loaf left by the Fae and takes a single bite.

The hunger pangs plaguing her immediately cease, leaving her comfortably full.

The risks to get the load were great [Sakura remembers the sharp teeth and sharper words that chased after her, closing in], but the rewards were more than worth it.

She settles against the rough bark, watching the bayou contentedly. The animals are stirred up tonight, the alligators and plesiosaurs move about in agitation, jaws snapping and waves disrupting the thick algae on the water’s surface.

A shriek pierces the air, causing Sakura to flinch so violently that she nearly falls.

For a moment, Sakura fears that she has been found and the Hunt is on.

However, she quickly realizes the truth.

Someone has fallen into the waters.

He struggles with the creatures of the marsh valiantly, a short blade making it clear that he is the threat here.

The shriek was the death scream of one of the alligators.

From his attire, darkened and dirtied with the grime of the marshes as it is, Sakura can tell he is one of the competitors. None of the Fae would deign to dress in the simple silver tunics and leggings worn by competitors; they favor comfortable opulence.

However, the boy is not human like she is.

She sees it in his sharp teeth and finely webbed fingers.

Sakura swallows, hands clenching as she watches his deft fighting. She doesn’t want to get involved, doesn’t want to plunge into the icy, murky waters to help this boy.

Besides, he seems be handling himself just fine.

That is, until one of the plesiosaurs manages to get a lucky bite in, drawing the boy’s shimmery, inhuman blood.

The bayou falls completely silent as every creature focuses on the scent of blood in the water.

Sakura can see the whites of the boy’s eyes, see the realization and acceptance of his fate in his face, see the way he doubles his efforts.

If he is going down, it won’t be for a lack of trying.

Sakura’s hands shake as she removes her satchel and pulls free the war hammer she always carries with her here.

She stands up, quietly maneuvering among the branches and the nearby trees until she is right above the fight.

Sakura takes a deep breath, tightens her grip on her hammer, and leaps.


End file.
